


Coward

by StopitGerald



Series: Oneshots [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, canonverse, kind of, togami has no idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:58:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13376739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopitGerald/pseuds/StopitGerald
Summary: Naegi can't always fight his own demons- so Togami learns how to wield a sword.





	Coward

**Author's Note:**

> ergh this is just a stupid thing i found in my notes its like a year old so please no bully uwu

Byakuya’s people skills are subpar. His comforting skills even less so.

He and Makoto had, well… ‘been an item’ for quite a while now, but he’s still completely useless. At least, when it came to days like these. They all had their days, after what they’d been through, but Makoto seems to have it the worst. There were mornings when the poor boy couldn’t even manage to get out of bed. Whether it was physical or mental, or both, Byakuya still has no idea what to do besides be completely logical.

He offers something to eat and drink, an extra blanket, and then leaves Makoto to his own devices. In reality, being left alone was the last thing he wanted. Makoto wanted to be able to see his friends, to know they were safe and well. The idea that some of his friends were still making it was his drive, after all. But Byakuya doesn’t know that, and every time Makoto’s had one of these episodes he’s awkwardly excused himself from their shared home.

He just… Couldn’t. He couldn’t figure out what to do for the boy, so he tried to forget it was happening. Extremely… Selfish. Cowardly.

Makoto doesn’t think that, of course. He understands whole-heartedly that Byakuya doesn’t understand emotions and how to cope with them.

Byakuya stands, currently, outside the door, his eyes shut and his breath still.

He could leave, right now, and head to work and try to forget that Makoto hadn’t even woken up that morning, or he could go back and… Try to figure out how to help him.

He always had this dilemma, and so far they’d all ended with his decision to leave his partner behind and head in. Today, though- The thought of being too _cowardly_ and too _selfish_ to talk with Makoto through his troubles and his depression… It stings a bit more than he’d like to admit. Makoto had a job as well, but he was excused most of the time. If he didn’t come in there wasn’t any fuss about it, and well… Byakuya couldn’t use that excuse. He could do what he wanted just as well as Makoto. He was just trying to avoid it.

He flips around, his fingers connecting to the cold, metal doorknob. He turns it quickly, the click of the door opening too loud for such a simple sound. He steps back in, dropping his case on the ground like discarded trash. He was going to go back to Makoto, and he was going to help the boy, not try to forget him.

 God! How selfish he’d been.

“Makoto.”

His voice is a bit too taut and formal to be considered comforting, but the boy lying in bed still shifts nonetheless. Despite his acknowledgment, he doesn’t even raise his head. A lump forms in Byakuya’s throat. A lump of apprehension and a loss for action. He’s no idea what to do next, staring at the lump of Makoto on the bed.

He takes a step closer, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to the boy. The part of himself that he’s always trusted says to pull the blankets away and demand the boy explain himself and explain why this happened so often, but he knows, _he knows-_ that that will get him nowhere. He had to be soft and careful, like a- a boyfriend- should be. He didn’t… He didn’t appreciate that term, not really. He preferred Makoto be called his partner or his significant other, not his- boyfriend.

Still, boyfriend- Significant other- lover- whatever! He was meant to protect. Though he felt that coursing protectiveness for Makoto, he never acted on it. What was it with his empty ideals?

He reaches out- not to rip the blankets away, but to slowly move them down so he can see Makoto’s face.

The boy has been crying, wet cheeks and red eyes tell all. His face looks dead, completely flat and emotionless. It actually- It scares the hell out of him. Makoto was always so full of emotion- even if it was sadness, you’d at least be able to read it from those big hazel eyes of his. But right now the physical signs are the only reason Byakuya can tell he’d been sad at all.

“Makoto.”

His voice is softer now, gentler with a hint of concern. The boy’s eyes flick to his, but only for a split second. He seems ashamed, but he makes no move to hide himself again. A moment of silence, of staring, seems to put the poor thing over the edge. His eyes well with tears and he buries his face back into the blankets to hide it.

Byakuya, still clueless, shifts closer, bringing the blankets down again. He cups Makoto’s face with a hand, stroking his cheek with a gentle thumb. He knows physical touch helps the most, but how, exactly? He brings both feet up on the bed, kicking his shoes off with ease.

“I’m here.”

The words are more unsure than he would’ve liked them to be. He was supposed to be a rock- a solid, strong place for others to surround and be awed by. How would he get by if he couldn’t even comfort his partner?

He brings his head down to Makoto’s level, nudging the boy’s forehead with his own. He’s still crying, his timid little shoulders rack with the silent sobs leaving his lips. Byakuya frowns, his thumb trailing over the smaller boy’s lower lip. And suddenly- His face shifts, his mouth snapping shut and his teary eyes glancing back up at Byakuya awkwardly. The thumb on his lip seems to be what’d done it, so Byakuya makes another pass.

Though it’s not exactly a comforting touch, he supposes it’d surprised him to a degree. Just enough to calm him down for a moment.

“What are you crying for?”

Makoto hadn’t spoken, not one word since he’d woken in tears, but he seems to be able to muster his courage.

“you know why.”

Byakuya frowns, but it’s not in confusion. He’s hit with a hard pang of empathy. He knows exactly how that feels.

“It will be alright.”

He wraps an arm underneath Makoto to lift him up. He pulls the shaking boy, clad in nothing but a large shirt that looks suspiciously too big for him, to his chest. Makoto flops his cheek against Byakuya’s shoulder, his eyes closing as his hands fist in the black fabric of his blazer.

“Thank you.”


End file.
